Silver and Gold
by chocykitty
Summary: Basically, an attempt at a love story. They meet through music. I'm not normally paranoid when I rate it 'T' (not too much experience, though), but this time it probably is.
1. Chapter 1

Gabrielle's POV:

Have you ever felt... Distant? Around your family? Around your own sister?

Well, it's how I was feeling right now. My older sister, Fleur, was busy trying to comfort her inconsolable husband. She was even crying herself.

See, there was this huge battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Her brother-in-law died. Fred Weasley, one of the infamous Weasley twins.

I was also sad, but I hadn't known him that well. I hadn't known most of these people that well, but death is a sad thing.

Funerals are sad.

Especially when you are surrounded by the enormous amount of family and friends that attending, all sobbing.

But none harder than George Weasley. He was being 'comforted' by his girlfriend, mother, and a great deal of brothers- though they didn't help much, as all of them were crying, too.

I did remember at Fleur's wedding, I got to talk to Fred a little. He was really funny and nice. Of course, I had trouble telling apart the twins, but still. I eventually figured out that it was George that was missing the ear, after asking.

Everybody was dressed in black dress robes. They were all fancy, yet stuffy. I had the feeling that if Fred had been able to dictate what we wore, it would NOT be this. Probably all clown suits.

He was interesting like that. Of course, nobody minded dressing up like that, not for somebody so well-liked.

It was a pity that I was to leave for America right after. I'd tried to get the job application postponed, but they wouldn't let me.

I really loved playing the flute. I'd had tons of lessons, and was to become a flute teacher. Hopefully. But the best school I could find, one where they pay decently, and everything... Was in America.

As the funeral finished up, I was left feeling immensely awkward.

I didn't actually say good-bye to anybody, just a note. I hope Fleur won't hate me.

With a sigh and a long look over my shoulder, I Apparated away.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh. My. GOSH! Four follows, three favorites, and not even to chapter two! No reviews yet, but I still love getting the emails telling me that people followed/favorited.**

**I cannot express my joy in any other way than... SLOTH-TAILED BUNNIES! (Yes, so joyful that it does not make any sense. To most. To me, however...)**

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Apollo's POV:

"So, you see, Lil' Sis, it's really for the best." My little sister raised her eyebrows, looking skeptical.

"Somehow, Apollo, I do not think that you plus teaching is very... Wise."

"Ah-ah-ah! Arty, Arty, Arty." She gritted her teeth. "I won't be teaching. I'm the sponsor." I smirked. "Don'cha know, Lil' Sis?" I did this just to get on her nerves. Yes, she was older. But she didn't look it, so poo to her. I'd never admit she was older, of course, but it was true.

"I'm still not convinced." She was being incredibly difficult! Well, how to convince her? Not that it was necessary, I just liked to win. Aha! A poem. Haikus are the fastest.

"What about a poem? I've got one that'll do the trick!" I offered, grinning. Now, to think up the poem I needed...Good thing I was good at thinking on my feet! "Music is awesome. I am even awesome-er. Put the two together." She gave me a flat look.

"Remind me again why you were designated as the god of poetry?" She demanded. "That was terrible! You missed the syllable count, and it was simply more of your bragging."

"I did?" I asked.

"Last one." She replied. I muttered the poem to myself, and found she was right. Shoot. I'm not as good at thinking on my feet as I had thought I was. Shame.

"Um... Okay, how about this?" I quickly revised the last line. "Music is awesome. I am even awesome-er. Refrigerator." She rolled her eyes.

"That doesn't make any sense, but at least the word count is right." She frowned. "I suppose your students will be greatly encouraged when they're better than the person who funds the school.."

"Hey!" I protested."Whaddaya mean 'better'? Nobody is better than me!"

"Don't forget Everybody. Nobody's her best friend, and Nobody doesn't like his friends being left out."

"Wait, what?" Artemis has thoroughly confused me.

"Now you know how confusing it is when such a lack of talent can think they're the best. Go away, O lack of talent." I huffed and stormed away.

"Sisters." I muttered angrily. "What do they know, hmm?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Apologies for the short chapters. They're not much, I know, but they're something.**

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Gabrielle's POV:

With a snap, crackle and- ARGH! -splinch, I arrived in the american apartment I'd rented. Sadly, I arrived gushing blood from my nose, where I'd left behind a bit of nostril. I quickly dove for the bathroom, finding some toilet paper to staunch the blood, at least until I could heal myself.

I wandered back out to my trunk, and, keeping the paper firmly over my nose, rummaged around in it. I soon came across my wand, which, like Fleur's, had a hair from Granny's head. It was apple and veela hair, 10 ¾ inches, hard.

Also custom-made, in case that was wondered.

I lifted the paper off of my face, and blood started up again.

"Vulnera sanentur," I said, effectively cleaning myself up.

I was better, all healed. And with time to spare.

I honestly didn't think the interview would be solely based upon my clothes, so I didn't bother wasting time fussing over them. (Too much. I had to change, of course.) However, I was incredibly sleepy, and there was a coffee shop right down the road.

With an 'accio!' for my stuff, and a skip in my step, I started on the journey.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I have no words to describe my happiness, other than this and the disclaimer... which does not really sum up my happiness. Oh well.**

**Disclaimer: (Have I remembered to do this, yet? I REALLY need a Remembrall.) I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or Harry Potter. I wish I did, but that is not the case.**

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Apollo's POV:

I am a mass of nerves. The school will be opening in a month, for summer, and I've only got one flute teacher applicant, three guitar teacher applicants, and a saxophone one. Apparently, piano, or harp, or oboe, or drums, or tambourine, or, well, most things... Apparently they aren't good enough! I don't even have a stinkin' principal!

I have the building and everything, courtesy of Annabeth (I always knew those two were destined), as well as all of the instruments needed and more, courtesy of Hephaestus.

I wouldn't have dreamt of doing this during the War against Gaia, but that's how it happened. It had been being planned for a long, long, long time, and now my architect can't see the Grand Opening, because she's stuck in smelly, old Tartarus. Honestly, she could have at least come to the opening ceremony, or staff applications!

Stupid Tartarus. Stupid Gaia. She could have waited for Annabeth to be here before she trapped them in Tartarus. I mean, visiting me would've been useful. I'm still the same. (Though maybe that's why Gaia didn't bring Annabeth here... Or maybe she just hates me. Gaia, not Annabeth.)

I was another of the gods that didn't change. Not that the heroes needed to know that, of course, but I was free from the headaches. I have one name, am proud of it, and keep it. I am Apollo in both Rome and Greece, though never did quite catch onto the Roman ways. I was a bit too busy learning how to control the Sun Chariot.

Now America, on the other hand... I caught on perfectly to that.

"Well, I am perfect, after all," I muttered to myself.


	5. Chapter 5

Gabrielle's POV:

"Um... Could I 'ave a... Ah. Well. Ahm..." I was having trouble trouble deciding. I didn't know what most of those were, let alone how to pronounce them. My already high-ish voice, airy and quite unlike my sister's 'full, throaty' voice, was a tad higher with uncertainty. I scanned the list through, noticing 'tea' on it. A 'chai tea latte' sounded good, but I wanted to try 'coffee'. I think I'd had it a few times before, but couldn't really remember.

"Ah... What ees an 'iced Mocha'?" I asked. Did I pronounce that right? 'Mah-chah'?

I looked at the confusion on the cashier's face, and decided I probably didn't. Then realization dawned on her face.

"Oh! Do you mean an iced Mocha?" She pronounced it 'moe-kah', and I think that was I meant. I bobbed my head vigorously, glad I was the only one in line. "It's a coffee-smoothie with chocolate." Coffee with chocolate? Hmm... Well, I do like chocolate.

"Can I get one?" I asked.

"Sure!" She scribbled something down, and handed it to some other guy in an apron. "Do you want whipped cream on that?" She asked, while grabbing something labeled 'chocolate syrup' from some odd Muggle contraption.

"Yes, please," I said, hoping it was good. A little bit later, I received a drink in a cup. It had white fluffy stuff on the top, and brown stuff drizzled over that.

"That'll be six seventy-nine," she said cheerfully. I needed a bit of help to sort out the Muggle money, but I presume she blamed it on my obvious French background.

Being French in America sure does help with money confusion acceptance.

"Thank you for your 'elp!" I replied cheerfully. I wandered over to a table to rummage through my purse. I had a hard time finding the schedule and map, but I found them fast.

It was only about a block from here. And it's at four-thirty. Yup. Plenty of time.

How much do I have? I idly wondered. I glanced at my Muggle watch, the one on my wrist, and raised my eyebrows.

It was four-twenty-five.

"Merde!" I swore. "I'm going to be late! Argh!" I was glad I'd already tipped at the front. I dashed off. Honestly, what happened to the time? Did I seriously spend that much time figuring out what I wanted?

Cup in hand, I dashed down the road, not even having taken a sip, yet. I made it to where I was supposed to be successfully, but...

"Where does eet say ze address?" I looked over the paper, but still had not found it. I scanned over the buildings.

"Maybe ze fanciest?" I guessed aloud. I had not seen a sign. So I strode over to the fanciest one. Inside the double glass doors was a receptionist.

"May I help you?" The man asked, obviously bored.

"Yes, please. I was wondering if you knew where an 'Academy of Music' might be? I am 'aving trouble finding it," I admitted sheepishly. The receptionist's bored look deepened.

"Ha. Come to the wrong place, kid. It's on the other side of the town. Sorry." He turned away from me.

"Well, thank you anyway!" I called back to him as I glided out. I didn't dare Apparate there. Too many Muggles.

So how was I to get there?

There were buses in New York. I could catch a bus, and hope for the best. Sadly, it seemed my only option.

I spent twenty minutes searching for a bus stop, and another fifteen waiting for the bus to await. My job was almost certainly doomed. And my skills in reading English needed quite a bit of brushing up.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I apologize for the shortness of all chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Harry Potter. If I did, well... I'd be happier than Kronos with control of the world. Or Voldy with a dead Harry. But I am not that happy, which indicates that I do not own either. However, I will come close to that happy in a few days, but I still won't own either.**

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Apollo's POV:

"Where IS she?" I growled. I had almost definitely lost my applicant for flute. 'Gabrielle Delacour', she was called. She was now officially half an hour late.

The clock was ticking. Forty-five minutes. Fifty-nine minutes...

"Excuse me?" A voice asked. It belonged to a female. "I heard you were looking for a flute teacher, and I'd be interested in the job..." It was a dark-haired woman in her early thirties, it appeared. She had blond highlights and a little too much make-up.

"Are you... Gabrielle Delacour?" I asked. She shook her head.

"No. I'm Joy Kneazle."

"Well, come on in. Do you have a resume?" I asked. She nodded and handed me a stack of papers.

I looked through them. Everything seemed fine. "Can you play?" I asked. She nodded. "Show me," I demanded. She did so. She was actually pretty amazing at it. Really amazing. My eyes widened.

"You have the job," I told her. She squealed.

"Really?" She demanded, breathless. I grimaced.

"I had one applicant. She's..." I glanced at the clock. "Over an hour late." She started jumping excitedly.

"When do I start?" Her blue eyes were shining with joy.

"Next Monday- not this coming up one, the one after." She nodded and left. Soon after, another knock sounded.

"Come in," I said tiredly. A very pretty blond woman entered. Her hair was tinted almost silvery, but not in the 'gray hair' sense. Something very shiny, though, for definites. She had midnight blue eyes, framed by dark lashes. Which was odd, because most people that are blond have sandy eyelashes.

"'Ello. I am Gabrielle Delacour. I got very lost. Thees ees my first time in New York. Or America, for zat matter." AND she was French? I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped, but I was so dazed I couldn't tell.


End file.
